James Bond is back, and this time it’s mighty personal. Daniel Craig’s craggy agent picks up exactly where he left off in another bruising thriller that leaves you feeling both drained and exhilarated.
There are hand-to-hand fights that make your eyes water and old-school stunts involving motorbikes, speedboats, jet fighters and expensive cars that give you whiplash just looking at them. Really, nobody does it better than the new 007.
Eight minutes of highly impressive, parallel-edited, SFX-assisted, stunt-laden action are up before the ears, eyeballs and brain get their first momentary repose. Before then, our hero chases down Mr White in the Aston dodgem-car through Alpine tunnels.
Cough or blink and you’ll miss how our bold spooks link the last film’s Le Chiffre to bug-eyed faux environmentalist Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), a destabiliser of US backyard governments with a laughable, pudding-basin haircut-ed sidekick. Almost immediately, he hops, skips and jumps across Siena’s roofs and the horse-loving, harlequin-ed Palio crowds – and we soon follow Bond ‘running wild’ from the palatial villas of Italy to the slums of Haiti, the neo-Reifenstahl opera houses of Vienna, and the menacingly beautiful, otherworldly moonscapes and deserts of Bolivia.
There are plenty of references to other Bond moments. A horribly dangerous skydive recalls The Spy Who Loved Me. A pile-up in Haiti which spills a macabre lorryload of coffins recalls the voodoo creepiness of Live And Let Die. And, most outrageously of all, the grotesque daubing of a female corpse brings back Goldfinger - though Sean Connery got an awful lot more mileage out of that sort of thing.
As in Casino Royale, the famous John Barry theme tune is saved up until the end; a baffling, decision, I always think, not to use this thrilling music at the beginning of the film.
Bond has hardly got his 007 spurs, when he's infuriating M, Judi Dench, with his insolence and insubordination. Out in the field, he's whacking enemy agents in short, sharp, bone-cracking bursts of violence when he should be bringing them in for questioning.
“When you can’t tell your friends from your enemies it’s time to go,” growls Dench.
Clearly, Bond has to take this fellow down. But he also wants to track down the man who took his beloved Vesper away from him in the previous movie: he is pathologically seeking payback, and to the fury of his superiors, this is getting personal. But it hasn't stopped him cultivating female company in the traditional, fantastically supercilious manner. His companions are as demurely submissive as ever.Olga Kurylenko plays Camille, a mysterious, smouldering figure, out to wreak vengeance on the corrupt Bolivian dictators who killed her family.
Britain's Gemma Arterton plays Agent Fields; she greets 007 wearing a trenchcoat with apparently little underneath, like some sort of MI6 strippogram. And she is the recipient of his ardour in the luxury hotel suite - that quintessential Bond habitat. This movie is, in fact, a reminder of how vital hotels are in Bond films, providing the essential narrative grammar: the checking in, the fight with the stranger in the room, the messages left at reception, the luxury cars lovingly photographed outside.
The familiar faces returning from Casino Royale pose a far more subtle, acidic test for Bond who has to tread carefully around treacherous old friends: Jeffrey Wright’s lugubrious CIA agent Felix Leiter; Giancarlo Giannini’s silky string-puller, René Mathis; and Jesper Christensen’s duplicitous Mr White.
So, if Quantum of Solace lacks Casino Royale's narrative drive, and is less than the sum of its parts, those parts are often terrific. See it for them, and see it for Craig's fully-formed Bond: angry, icily unsentimental, and fleetingly borderline psychotic at the close.
Craig inhabits the character with a ruthless charisma that never lets up. And he, above all, keeps you watching.
I give this movie 3 stars out of 5.
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